One Man, One Woman
by RacingRosso
Summary: Sam/Dylan: We all know what Dylan is like towards other people but does he treat his wife differently behind closed doors? A series of drabbles, not necessarily related, from when Sam and Dylan were married.
1. The Toast Thief

**DRABBLE:** We all know what Dylan is like towards other people but does he treat his wife differently behind closed doors? A series of drabbles, not necessarily related, from when Sam and Dylan were married.  
><em><strong>Define; drabble: <strong>__A **drabble** is an extremely short work of fiction of exactly one hundred words in length, although the term is often erroneously used to indicate a short story of fewer than 1000 words.  
><em>Disclaimer: Casualty belongs to the BBC. No copyright infringement intended.  
>AN: I'm using a little bit of artistic license in the way that I portray Sam and Dylan as no-one knows (at the moment) what they were like when they were married properly, i.e. living together etc. If you think that either of them are too OOC then please feel free to tell me. I don't bite. Also if you're a Tweeter, then please feel free to follow **SamAndDylanFans**. So I hope you enjoy it and if you have an idea for a drabble that you want me to write (Sam/Dylan ONLY) then please let me know!

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><p><strong>The Toast Thief<strong>

Sam Keogh leant against the kitchen counter, idly tapping her fingers against the polished work surface as she waited for the kettle to boil. She opened the cupboard and took out her polka dot mug. She closed the cupboard and placed the mug down on the work surface, reaching into the tea caddy for a tea bag. Sam dropped the tea bag into the mug just as the kettle finally boiled. She added the boiling water and then moved over to the toaster. She took two pieces of bread out from the bread bin and dropped them into the toaster, pushing it down. She moved back over to her tea and carefully removed the tea bag, giving it a quick strain. In went one sugar and a dash of milk. She gave it a quick stir before raising the spotted mug to her lips and taking a small sip. She sighed contentedly. Life was good.

"Paper." Dylan walked into the kitchen, dropping that morning's paper down on the table before moving over to where his wife stood. He pressed his lips to her cheek, his eyes landing on the silver toaster.

"Good morning to you too." Sam twisted round so she could see him properly. She drank in his handsome features, a contented smile slowly appearing on her lips.

Dylan glanced down at her, his lips slowly curving upwards into a smile. He bent his head downwards, gently capturing her lips in a sweet kiss, hoping he could keep her distracted long enough to pinch her toast. She'd done it to him enough times, he reasoned, gently sliding his fingers through his wife's soft light brown hair.

Sam was confused. He wasn't normally this affectionate first thing in the morning. But she wasn't going to complain, she quite liked it. Then the toaster pinged and she realised why he'd been keeping her distracted. She groaned inwardly as she watched him lean over to the toaster and pick out her toast. He placed it down on a plate before giving her a cheeky smile. _Damn you Keogh_.


	2. Our Last Summer

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's much appreciated.  
>Disclaimer: I own nothing.<br>Song is Our Last Summer by ABBA.  
>This is dedicated to my lovely friend Anny. Thanks for inspiring me to write SamDylan with your wonderful fic my darling! :)

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><p><strong>Our Last Summer<strong>

"Come on!" Sam Keogh shouted at her husband. She was standing in the sea, the waves rippling around her bare knees. Dylan was on the shore, watching her with a small smile on his face. She was dressed simply in denim shorts and a fitted cream coloured vest. Her light brown hair was untied, parts of it secured by her sun glasses that were perched on top of her head although the gentle sea breeze had forced strands of it loose and wisps of her hair were blowing into her face. She was holding a pair of white flip flops in her hand. "It's not cold, if that's what you're worried about."

"I think I'll pass." Dylan shouted back. He was quite happy standing on the sandy shore, thank you very much. Personally, he didn't really find the idea of getting covered in salty sea water particularly appealing but he was quite happy to watch his wife enjoy herself.

Sam grinned, the smile lighting up her entire face. "You scared?" She called teasingly. "Come on, they're only tiny little waves."

"I am not scared." Dylan retorted. "Some of us just don't find the idea of standing in god knows what, appealing."

His wife laughed. "You are." She waded out of the sea and towards him, kicking up bits of water with her feet, her smile firmly in place. "Come on! Stop being such a big wuss!" She took his hand as she reached him and tugged him towards the sea, determined to get him in the water.

Dylan allowed himself to be dragged for a few meters before he stopped and tugged at her hand, pulling her against his body. He tenderly tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear before gently capturing her lips with his. Sam melted into the embrace, one hand snaking around his neck. He broke the kiss and bent his knees, lifting her into his arms before starting to walk back towards the water.

"What are you doing?" Sam giggled as she wriggled in his hold. "Dylan! Put me down!" She laughed, the sound floating with the breeze.

Her husband smirked and stepped into the waves before depositing her gently in the sea. She looked shocked for a moment but she soon pulled herself up, a cheeky look glittering in her eyes.

"Well you told me to put you down." He smiled at her, gasping as she splashed water at him. "Oh, so it's like that, is it?" He asked rhetorically, allowing himself to let go for once as he splashed some water back at her. Sam shrieked as the water hit her bare legs.

The water fight continued albeit half heartedly for a few more moments before Sam stopped and moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around her husband's waist. He ran his hand through her damp hair, half wondering what she was up to. He knew, seconds later, as Sam overbalanced them both and they tumbled into the sea, both getting thoroughly soaked. "If I'm getting wet, so are you." She spat out a mouthful of salt water and sat up, grinning at his shocked expression.

He stood up, pulling her up with him. The pair waded out of the sea, going back to stand on the shore. He wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling as she dropped her head onto his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple gently, the smell of stale salt mingling with her perfume assaulting his senses as they stared out to sea, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Come on." He nudged her gently a few moments later. "Let's go home." He murmured, his lips grazing her cheek gently as he noticed how sleepy she was beginning to look. She nodded in agreement, accepting the hand he offered her. They began to walk up the beach together, their hands forever entwined. Rock hard pebbles crunched under their feet as they started the walk back, their figures silhouetted against the setting sun.

_I can still recall our last summer,  
><em>_I still see it all,  
><em>_Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain,  
><em>_Our last summer,  
>Memories that remain. <em>


	3. Man Flu

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one, it's much appreciated. This one is a little different but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Again if you feel that they're way too OOC, then feel free to tell me - I can take constructive criticism. I've had to use a little bit of artistic license with characterisation for this drabble because I felt that, in order for this to work, they needed to be a little different.  
>Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.<p>

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><p><strong>Man Flu <strong>

Dylan Keogh lay in the comfortable bed he shared with his wife, feeling completely and utterly pathetic for the first time in his life. He felt terrible. He had these horrible dull aches all over his body, his nose was all blocked up and he was almost certain he had a fever. He sighed and shifted position, a small groan of pain escaping his lips as there was an explosion of pain through his body. Sam had tucked him up so he was nice and warm and given him a hot water bottle before she'd gone to work but now the hot water bottle was cold and he really felt too ill to move out of the bed in order to redo it.

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><p>"How are you feeling?" Sam walked into their bedroom, an hour or so later. She'd just finished her shift and she'd come straight home, half hoping that Dylan would have been feeling a bit better. She almost sighed when she saw him lying in the bed, more or less in the exact same position she'd left him in earlier. He still had the same grumpy look on his face.<p>

Dylan mumbled something incoherent, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

"Sorry, what was that?" Sam raised her eyebrows, unable to believe how childish her husband was behaving.

"It's boiling." He whined, having switched from being cold to being hot in the last hour or so. He sounded like a petulant five year old rather than the grown man he was supposed to be, Sam thought with a grin, as she walked over to the bed and sat down next to him.

She leant closer to him, gently pressing the back of her cool hand to her husband's forehead. "You've got a little bit of a temperature." She said, eyeing him doubtfully.

Dylan frowned. "You've got a cold hand." He argued. "I'm boiling!" He began to cough violently, clutching his chest dramatically in order to accentuate how ill he was to her. "I'm dying." He wheezed after the coughing fit had finally subsided.

Sam smothered a giggle and rolled her eyes. Honestly, she'd never thought of him being so melodramatic, especially given the fact that he was normally so reserved. "For heavens sake Dylan, you are not dying." She replied, her tone exasperated. "It's just a touch of flu, you'll be fine. You know that, you're a doctor."

Her husband shook his head. "That's normal flu...women's flu." He croaked. "This is much worse...this is man-flu."

"I'd noticed." Sam said dryly, trying to resist the urge to roll her eyes again or giggle. She accomplished it and switched her attention back to her husband. "Shall I make you some soup?" She asked gently, running her hand through his blonde hair soothingly, knowing that he would agree.

He nodded pathetically in agreement, his eyes lighting up briefly at the prospect of food. "My hot water bottle?" He asked, knowing he was pushing his luck. He dug under the covers for it, producing it a few moments later and held it out to her.

Sam took it with a small smile. "You're lucky I love you." She said affectionately as she stood up, blowing him a small kiss before leaving the room.

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><p>"Here you go." Sam carried a tray into their room, ten minutes later. She waited until he had struggled into a sitting position before she placed it on his lap. She tucked the hot water bottle which had been wrapped in a fleecy blanket behind him before moving to the side of the bed and pretending to bow. "Now is there anything else I can get you <em>meine<em> master?" She asked teasingly in an awful attempt at a German accent.

Dylan scowled at her, not at all impressed with her attempt to wind him up. She just smiled sweetly in return, watching as he turned his attention to the bowl of soup and toast soldiers that she'd made him.

"Don't tell me you need me to feed you." Sam said a few moments later when he hadn't attempted to eat it.

"No." He replied grumpily. "I'm just waiting for it to cool down. I don't want to burn my tongue."

Sam let out a strangled giggle. Perhaps she should video tape this and the next time he was rude to a patient, she should show it to them, she thought. There was certainly a remarkable difference in his manner when he was alone with her compared to when he was dealing with the general public.

He shot her another glare as he heard the giggle that escaped from her, no matter how hard she'd tried to suppress it. "It's not funny."

"I'm sorry." Sam moved to sit next to him, entwining her fingers with his. Her apology was anything but sincere, he noted sullenly. "Eat your food, you need to get better." She said softly, running her thumb over the back of his hand as she swiftly brought the conversation back onto the state of his health rather than continuing to wind him up.

Dylan sighed dramatically but he did as she said. He dipped his spoon into the soup before raising the spoon to his lips and carefully taking a sip. Sam watched him with a small smile on her face, keeping hold of his other hand. Hopefully he'd feel better soon.


	4. Summer Rain

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one. Here's another one for you :)  
>Disclaimer: I still own nothing.<p>

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><p><strong>Summer Rain <strong>

They walked along the muddy riverside path, their hands entwined. Dervla was running in front of them, occasionally stopping to sniff a plant or the air, whichever took her fancy at that particular moment in time. They both, unusually, had the day off so they'd decided to seize the opportunity and take Dervla for a relaxing country walk.

It was a beautiful afternoon in August so you could be forgiven for expecting it to be hot. The day had started off quite warm but then around midday the sky had clouded over with angry, black rain clouds. Then the rain had started falling. It was gentle at first, small raindrops landing on them and the rich green surroundings. But then the tempo of the rain had increased, rather like the tempo of a particularly uplifting piece of music. There had been a few rumbles of thunder and the occasional crack of lightening before the storm ceased as abruptly as it started, dropping back off to the tiny little droplets of water that were sometimes welcome in the middle of a hot summer.

They both were soaked, having been caught in the middle of the storm. Sam's long blonde hair had been left down that morning and wisps of it were sticking to her damp forehead. The colour of her hair was a lot darker than it was when it was completely dry. Dylan didn't look much better. Occasionally a rain droplet would land on his nose, hanging there for a while until eventually it fell, tricking down his face.

Dervla was probably the driest of the trio but ironically she was also the muddiest. She had been nosing into the undergrowth, daring a rabbit to appear so she could chase it, and splashing through deep puddles of muddy water. She kept shaking her grey coat free of any water but they both knew that she was going to require a bath when they got home.

Dylan glanced down at his wife. She was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a lightweight hooded top. She had an old pair of boots on her feet that were now rather muddy. Her hair was damp and sticking to her head but she still managed to look beautiful to him. He let go of her hand, snaking his arm around her shoulders instead. She glanced up at him, her blue orbs looking at him inquisitively. A small smile was playing on her pink lips as she moved closer to him, wrapping her arm around his waist. Neither of them really went in for public displays of affection so for them, walking like this was an alien concept.

They continued walking, neither of them feeling the need to break the peaceful silence that had settled over them. Dervla had returned to Dylan's side and she was walking quietly along with them, occasionally glancing up at them both, a contented expression in her liquid brown eyes.

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><p>That evening found Sam and Dylan sprawled out on the sofa together, a blanket draped over Sam's legs. The room was darkened, their only source of light coming from the various scented candles that Sam had – much to Dylan's annoyance – dotted around the room. He had his arm around her shoulder and she had her head resting on his chest, her arm around his back. Her eyes were drifting shut, the warmth of the room and the tranquil silence making her feel sleepy.<p>

Their walk down by the river that day had been exhausting but all three of them had enjoyed it nonetheless. It had resulted in being muddy, tired and wet but neither of them complained. Dylan was well used to it – he normally took Dervla out on longer walks when he had days off to make up for the shorter walks she got when he was working – and Sam, well she'd just enjoyed spending quality time with both her husband and his dog.

Dylan shifted position slightly as he tugged Sam closer to his body, holding her protectively. He pressed a kiss to her damp hair, the sweet scent of her shampoo assaulting his nostrils. She mumbled something incoherent into his chest as exhaustion took over. He chuckled, knowing she was completely worn out by the days events whether she chose to admit it to him or not.

As she drifted off to sleep, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a little longer as he tenderly whispered the simple three words that meant so much yet were rarely exchanged between them. "I love you."


	5. His Girls

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last drabble; here's another one.  
>This one was inspired by rain and my dog. I guess it could be a continuation from <strong>Summer Rain<strong> or it could just be a stand alone; however you want to interpret it. Hope you like it!  
>Disclaimer: I still own nothing.<p>

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><p><strong>His Girls <strong>

Dylan leant against the door frame, a small smile tugging at his lips as he surveyed the scene in front of him. Sam was curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. Dervla was lying on the sofa next to her, her head on Sam's arm. One dark, hairy paw was resting gently on Sam's hip in a protective fashion.

The log fire was roaring, small flames flickering and dancing upwards, jumping to their own tune. The sporadic movement of the flames was casting a soft orange glow across the room, making it feel that much more cosier. The deep red coloured curtains were drawn, the dark cold night being hidden away from view. Outside, the rain was pattering down and the wind was whistling at the windows – a storm beginning to brew.

Banishing all thoughts of the freezing weather from his mind, he strode purposefully over to where Sam and Dervla lay. The dog opened one eye lazily as his footsteps approached and upon seeing it was him, jumped off of the sofa to allow him to sit down next to Sam. He perched on the edge of the comfortable sofa, his gaze drifting to his peacefully sleeping wife. He leant closer to her, gently combing his fingers through her long blonde hair soothingly. She stirred at his gentle touch, her eyes opening briefly, bright blue orbs looking directly at him for a few moments before exhaustion took over again and her eyes fluttered closed sleepily. He chuckled quietly, gently pressing his lips to her cheek in a brief but soft kiss.

He straightened back up, his hand seeking out Sam's. Her smaller fingers curled around his larger ones, gripping them tightly. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand soothingly, his thumb moving in a circular motion over her silky soft skin. The vice like grip she'd had on his hand loosened as she drifted back off to sleep; her breathing evening out.

Dervla shuffled closer to them both, sitting down in front of the sofa and resting her head on Dylan's knee, looking up at him with expressive chocolate coloured eyes. He stroked her head affectionately, his gaze alternating between his dog and his wife. He had everything he needed, right in front of him. His beautiful wife and his dog. Both his girls.


	6. Sleepy

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one - I'm glad you enjoyed it.  
>I must admit that I'm not entirely convinced with how this one turned out but I hope you all enjoy it anyway.<br>Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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><p><strong>Sleepy<strong>

Dylan Keogh sat down carefully on the edge of the bed that he shared with his wife, being mindful not to spill the boiling liquid on the bed. He placed the steaming cup of coffee he held in his hands on the bedside table before turning his attention to Sam. She was fast asleep and wisps of her blonde hair were lying across her face, moving gently as she breathed. The covers were tucked up and around her shoulders. She looked ever so comfy and he knew then that it was going to be a hard task to wake her up, especially as it was freezing cold outside.

He placed his large hand on her small shoulder, gently shaking her in an attempt to rouse her from her peaceful slumber. She groaned in response, grumbling something under her breath. He couldn't quite make out what she'd said but he knew her better than he knew himself so he knew that at this time in the morning, it probably wasn't anything particularly tasteful. She really did appear to be grumpier than usual today.

"Sam," he said softly. "Come on, it's time to get up." He brushed her hair out of her eyes with his hand, his thumb gently grazing the soft skin of her cheek.

"No." She whined, her voice heavy with sleep. She kept her eyes firmly closed. "Five more minutes." She mumbled pleadingly into the pillow, shifting position in the bed to make herself comfortable again.

Dylan sighed deeply, glancing over at the clock. It was getting on for six o'clock now and he knew that he really had to get her up seeing as they were both due at work soon. He looked back at his wife, shaking his head in exasperation as he realised she'd gone back to sleep again. Admittedly she was harder to get out of bed in the winter – she was usually up before him in the summer. "Sam, Sam-an-tha." He deliberately drew her name out, knowing that she hated it when he did. "You've got to get up." He insisted, tangling his fingers in her soft blonde hair.

"Mm." She murmured in response, her face still buried in the pillow. "What time is it?"

He shifted his gaze from her and back over to the clock, his eyes swiftly picking out the time. "Nearly six," he answered, glancing at the cup of coffee that sat on the bedside table. "If you're not going to get up then I'll think I'll drink your coffee for you." He said lightly, watching as she shifted in the bed, the mention of coffee having the desired effect.

Sam rolled on to her back, slowly opening her eyes. Sometimes she really hated the early morning shifts, especially in the winter. She was toasty warm in bed and she knew that it was bound to be cold outside. Even though she wasn't usually one for wasting time in bed, she was really tired and the prospect of staying lovely and warm under the covers for one day was very appealing. She knew that if Dylan hadn't come in to wake her up with the promise of coffee, then she probably would have given into temptation and gone back to sleep again. Sighing deeply, she sat up in bed, glaring at him. "I'm awake." She muttered groggily, rubbing a hand over her face to try and wake herself up a bit.

A small smirk appeared on his face as he took in her sleepy appearance. Her blonde hair was tousled and it had a gentle wave to it rather than being perfectly straight like it normally was. She was dressed in a pair of cat pyjamas – he remembered that she'd bought them a few months ago purely because she thought they were cute. Despite the fact that she'd just woken up, she looked beautiful to him. He picked up the cup of coffee that was sitting on the bedside table and was probably cooling down rapidly, gently pushing it into her hands. He couldn't not give her the coffee now. She accepted it gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. Seconds later, her eyes fluttered closed in bliss as he leant over and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.


End file.
